My Caged Nightingale
by xoxomeganrose
Summary: Christine loves her fiancé Raoul more than anything, but when she is kidnapped by her Angel of Music during the Masquerade Ball, her world is turned upside down. With Don Juan Triumphant to rehearse for, can she grow to love Erik and forget her childhood sweetheart? Based on the ALW stage version of The Phantom of the Opera. E/C. Rated M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

_Chapter One_

"You promised me" Raoul whispered, leaning forward to kiss me. I pulled myself away, placing my fingers delicately against his lips.

"No Raoul please don't they'll see-"

"Well, let them see!" He snapped, pulling my hand away from his face, the frustration building in his eyes. "It's an engagement…not a crime" he seethed, interlacing his fingers with mine, caressing where his ring should have occupied my hand.

He didn't understand. I was only trying to protect him, to protect us. I knew that look, Raoul was angry with me again. I understood his frustration but we couldn't go public about our engagement. Not yet. He gathered both my hands up in his and pulled me closer to him.

"Christine what are you afraid of?" I knew exactly what I was afraid of. My Angel of Music finding out about our relationship and harming Raoul…or worse. I couldn't stand to think about the consequences. I averted my gaze, realising our argument had drawn too much unwanted attention to us. As far as anyone else was aware, Raoul and I were still becoming acquainted with each other since our reunion a few months ago. I hadn't told anyone of our growing relationship, not even Meg. I had to reassure him.

"Let's not argue. Please pretend just a little longer for me. You will understand in time, I promise."

"I can only hope for your sake, that I will understand in time, Miss Daae" he said loudly with a bow before turning away from me and heading for the bar at the far end of the room. I let out a pent-up sigh, fondling my engagement ring that hung on a chain around my neck, I gave it a kiss and buried it inside my corset. I understood his frustration, I knew that declaring our engagement would prove to the world that I couldn't be touched, that I belonged to him and only him. Raoul had always been this possessive, even when we were children; but since the fall of the chandelier, he had taken the term to the extreme.

The memory of the night the chandelier fell made my heart race with anxiety, the scars on my arms and hands feeling even more predominant despite my best efforts to cover them with my face powder. I shook my head as if to erase the memory...the hurt. I wasn't going to let it - or my argument with Raoul - spoil my evening.

The "Bal Masque" had been announced immediately after the night of _Il Muto_, clearly our Managers way of attempting to distract us from the terrible events and prevent members of the company from leaving the Opera Populaire. The Masquerade was all the other ballet girls could take about, discussing their dresses and masks, explaining to one another how they were planning to style their hair and makeup weeks before the evening, and even before I had even begun to think about attending myself. It was Raoul who surprised me with my dress, mask and hair accessories a few days before the ball - I was so grateful to him. _"I want everyone to see you looking beautiful on my arm that night"_ he told me. I was so overcome with joy, I threw my arms around his neck and planted kiss after kiss on his lips. He gladly took them and reciprocated them, before looking me in the eye and whispering_ "the whole world will know you are mine"._

Snapping back to reality and eyeing those around me, I now understood what he had meant. I felt completely overdressed, and realised that everyone would know that my attire would only be affordable to the likes of a Vicomte. I understood why he had dressed me up so extravagantly; Raoul could have his hold over me, even when we weren't together. I wasn't going to let his intensions upset me.

I didn't like to think of him in this way. I loved him, even as a child I planned my marriage to him. If I knew he wouldn't have come to any harm, I would have declared my love for him that night right there and then to anyone. But I couldn't risk it, knowing my Angel could at any time despite his absence.

_Angel._ I had thought of him every day in the time that had passed, despite all that he had done. I still believed he had been sent by my father. He had done so much for me since I had been brought to the Opera Populaire by Madame Giry. Losing my trail of thought for a moment, I overheard a conversation between the two Managers.

"Six months of relief!" Monsieur Andre exclaimed. Could it be I had not heard my Angel's voice, nor sensed his presence in that time? What's more, the moment the chandelier was replaced, life at the Opera Populaire soon returned to normal. Monsieur Firman and Monsieur Andre no longer received notes from my Angel and Carlotta's return to stardom was not interrupted. I let myself fade into the background, returning to dance alongside the other girls. I locked my voice away, knowing only one man in this world had the key. I wondered for a moment where he could have gone and hoping that he was okay before abandoning the thought completely.

I looked towards Raoul, watching him down a glass of brandy with ease and asking impatiently for another. I closed my eyes and turned away from the sight, and walked towards the dance floor, smiling and greeting everyone I came across. Noticing Meg, I began to make my way towards her when an unfamiliar man blocked my path, making me gasp in surprise. I did not recognise him, his mask hiding any recognisable features.

"Forgive me for startling you Mademoiselle, but I have watched you since you arrived this evening and cannot bear the thought of you remaining a wall flower for the whole night" he declared, taking my hand in his and planting a dainty kiss on my knuckles. "Would you do me the honour of dancing with me?" Before I could answer him, a familiar pair of arms pulled me into an embrace from behind.

"This Mademoiselle is spoken for" Raoul threatened, pulling me away from the gentlemen who quickly took his leave. "Kiss me" he demanded, the smell of alcohol present on his breath. In spite of his drunken state, I could not deny Raoul any longer. Hoping we did not have many prying eyes, I slid my arms around his neck and kissed him passionately, but briefly. The taste of his drink passed from his mouth to mine, the unpleasant taste lingered on my lips. "There you are Lotte" he whispered, a sly smile spreading across his face "and now we dance!" he exclaimed, making Monsieur Reyer start up the orchestra immediately.

Raoul guided me ever so gently around the room, complimenting me every chance he could; it made me happy to know I had please him. One by one couples joined us, Raoul and I lost in a sea of smiles and laughter.

The dance came to an end, and while the remainder of the room stopped to applaud the orchestra, Raoul kept a tight grip on my hands. "Kiss me again" he commanded.

"But Raoul, we're-"

"Kiss...me...Christine" he instructed, his grip tightening. I knew and understood his intention - we were completely surrounded, we wouldn't go unnoticed. I thought that I had already proven my commitment to him, to us. I looked around for even the smallest glimpse of my Angel; unable to see him, I took our lives into my hands and submitted myself to Raoul. He cupped my face with his hands and pulled my mouth to his. A wave of gasps flooded the room as Raoul delved his tongue into my mouth and encouraged mine into his, occasionally biting my bottom lip.

Relief flooded me when everyone's attention was turned away from us, a glimpse of red in the corner of my eye pulling me away from Raoul's lips. The room gasped again in realisation, the Phantom had returned to the Opera Populaire. I stood frozen, Raoul's hold on me still dominant.

"Finally" he whispered, leaving my side. Anxiety hit me as my Angel addressed the room, looking at each individual intently as he cascaded slowly down the staircase.

"Here I bring the finished score: Don Juan Triumphant!" he declared, handing it over to Monsieur Firman before fixing his gaze on me. I couldn't help but feel drawn to him, the distance between us shortening as we walked towards each other. I saw no malice in his face, and wondered if he knew the full extent of mine and Raoul's relationship over the past six months. His eyes fell to the chain around my neck and he slowly pulled my engagement ring from my cleavage. His eyes turned fiery, ripping the chain from my neck.

"Your chains are still mine!" he declared "you belong to me" he whispered, a note of hurt in his voice. Before I could protest he grabbed my wrist and pulled me into his embrace. The room shrieked in surprise as Raoul ran towards me, his sword extended in front of him.

"Let my fiancée go!" He commanded.

Hope filled me as he made his way over to us, but in my complacency, I failed to observe my Angel retrieve a dagger from his waistcoat and pelt it towards Raoul as he pulled me to the top of the staircase. I screamed louder than I thought possible as I saw it hit his chest before I fell into darkness. I looked up towards the trap door we had just fallen through and heard Raoul cry out for me, his voice laced with pain.

"Raoul! Raoul, my love I'm down here!" I managed to scream before the opening above us closed.

"Hush my darling" my Angel began to coo in my ear, holding me to his chest "I am here now". I knew he was trying to pacify me, but it wouldn't work, he couldn't blind me from what had just happened. I struggled, wanting to free myself from his grasp.

"What?! I am not your darling! Let me go!" I fought against him to try to escape, but he was far too strong. "No, no please Angel let me go! Raoul! Raoul I'm-" His gloved had clasped over my mouth as he whispered sweet nothings into my ear, but it wouldn't suppress my hurt. I felt my heart die as he took me further and further into the deep recesses of the catacombs and further away from my fiancé. Tears fell from my eyes as I feared for his life, and mine.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Thank you for all your reviews so far :) They really keep me motivated to keep writing.

* * *

_Chapter Two_

I fought against his grip with everything I had, yet he seemed immune to my pleas and hostility against him. He soon grew tired of me trying to slip away form his grasp –sometimes successfully, though each time he caught me - and resorted to throwing me over his shoulder and clamping my legs in place with his arms so I could not kick my way free. I pounded my fists on his back as he carried me, and yet he did not react, for a moment inspiring the possibility in my mind that my Angel of Music was of such a divine nature that nothing could hurt him, but it soon slipped from my immediate thoughts as he started to slow his pace. I could do nothing but lie lifelessly over his shoulder, watching his cape flow behind us, my corset digging into my ribs which I knew would leave me riddled with bruises.

"Christine, you are trying my patience." Nothing I could do or say would make him release me as he carried me further and deeper into the catacombs. Walking through dark passages that slowly sloped down at a small gradient each time; we arrived in my Angel's home through a false wall that was hidden behind one of his bookcases.

"Please let me go, please!" I begged as I pounded my fists on his back once again. He lowered me down and released me from his grip, making me fall to the cold stone floor. My wrists ached from the impact as I got myself back up to stand and face him. "Why Angel, why?" I exclaimed, watching him slide the bookcase back into position and concealing the passageway.

"This is the only way I can protect you!" He confessed, removing his cape and draping it over the chair next to his desk, which was covered in hand-drawn pictures which I could not decipher the theme of. "This" he gestured to the cavern "is your home now, my sweet." He began to slowly walk towards me, and somehow I could not resist his allure. "You will remain down here with _me_" he continued "you will live with _me_, you will sing for _me_." I could do nothing but play with my hands in anxiety. His words seemed to blur in and out of focus as I worried for Raoul. "Your voice has been deprived of practice of late, has it not my Christine?"

"But that is not my fault! Carlotta-"

"I know." He interrupted. "I know her return to fame has taken the limelight away from you, forcing you to fade into the background once again." He slowly walked towards me until we were merely inches apart, and gently cupped my face with his hands. "I created you Christine, and I will not let something so beautiful be overshadowed and forgotten. I have a…proposition for you…" My throat dried up, my body began to feel numb. And for a moment in my despair, I thought I heard the echo of clamouring voices trying to find me.

"Raoul?! Raoul! Raoul I'm down here! Help me!" I tried to run from him towards the source of the voices, but he quickly caught me and pulled me back to his chest, covering my mouth and muffling my screams with his gloved hand.

"Your Vicomte is most probably dead" he whispered "you saw where my blade struck him. Your home is with me now." His dominance frightened me as I helplessly looked around for some means of escape, eyeing each inanimate object to see any tell-tale signs of concealments. "Now…if I uncover your mouth, do you promise me you will not scream?" I nodded violently, willing him to let me talk.

"Please, please Master let me go" I begged "please I…I will stay with you!" I could not believe the words that were coming out of my mouth, but I had never felt so desperate, so inconsolable. "My voice, my very soul will belong to you. I will obey you in everything, but please…please just let me see Raoul!" A single tear cascaded down my cheek.

"Christine he-"

"Please…if he is to die, let me at least say goodbye to him! I may still have time." I had never tried so hard to keep myself composed, yet my tears continued to fall, disobeying me. "Please" I whispered, almost inaudibly, grasping the lapels of his suit jacket. He exhaled and caressed my damp cheek with his the back of his hand. I closed my eyes as he wiped away my tears.

"No Christine" he replied coldly "you will never see that boy again." He took one of my trembling hands in his, trying to guide me towards his organ. "Come now, sing for me."

"No! I will never sing again!" I sank to the floor by his feet and sobbed into my palms, my ball gown surrounding me. I couldn't bear to look at him "Angel, I love him!" He stood there for what seemed like an eternity, saying not a word to me.

"Come to me once you have composed yourself" he commanded "we start immediately." Nothing he could have said or done would have placated me. I had to see Raoul by any means possible.

"Angel…?"I looked up, expecting to see him towering over me, but he had disappeared. I looked around the grand room with urgency, unable to tell where he had gone and knowing I had to utilise this opportunity to escape.

I eyed the lake that I knew worked as a portal between his lair and the Opera House. All rational thought escaped me as I began to quickly unlace the back of my dress. I could not take the gondola that had once brought me here; I knew that my upper body strength was not up to scratch to move it along the passageways. What's more, if my Angel had come back to find it missing, he would know immediately where to go looking for me. I had only one chance, and that was to swim back to the Opera Populaire.

Undoing the final tie, I let my dress puddle around my feet. I had to leave it behind, knowing that the weight of it once wet would have slowed me down. I shivered as I stripped down to my corset and underskirts, folded my beloved dress up, unbuckled my small high-heeled shoes and carefully took each individual decoration out of my hair. Hiding the bundle amongst the rubble, I quickly looked around, my Angel was still nowhere in sight. Not wanting to draw attention to myself, I slowly eased myself into the water, careful to not make a sound, whilst still making a quiet sobbing noise to give the impression that I was still grieving for my fate and that of my fiancé's.

The water was freezing, much more so than I had expected. Goosebumps immediately covered my arms and legs, and my teeth began to chatter uncontrollably. It didn't matter, I had to escape. I had to find Raoul, to find him alive so we could run as far away as we could from Paris. I would not let myself believe that he was dead. Checking I had no audience for a final time, I quietly swam away; my feet still able to feel the floor every now and then until I felt the descending ledge suddenly disappear.

I continued on as quietly as I could, trying to keep my head above the water. My mind filled with the memory of my journey across this expanse of water when my Angel had guided me from my dressing room to his home. The whole experience seemed like no more than a dream, my account of the details became vaguer every time I called upon my memory to present me with them. I had swam for what must have been thirty minutes, and I couldn't help but feel I was not making any progress, it was as if I was going around in circles.

A little while later, I felt my bones begin to turn numb, making the journey all the more painful as my limbs started to lock up and grow fatigued. I tried to hold back my tears and suppress a whimper as I realised just how lost I was, I had hit many dead ends and was growing hypothermic and tired. Finding a low ledge, I managed to pull myself out of the water and onto it, pulling my legs up to my chest to create a foetal position as I shook uncontrollably. I lay there on the stone floor for what seemed like hours, the temperature of the air warm and comforting. I looked to the ceiling and prayed to my father to guide me back to safety, to keep Raoul alive and end my suffering.

I couldn't give up, I had to keep going. Unable to do so gracefully, I rolled myself back into the water, the impact of the cold hitting me and making my heart seem to stop momentarily. I continued on, meeting nothing but more dead ends, familiar locations and disappointment until I finally reached a stretch of water down a passageway that went on for at least 20 meters. I gave a small cry of relief as I headed down it, sure that I would be out of my predicament sooner rather than later.

"No…no, no, no!" I screamed as I realised it lead me to yet another dead end in this hellish water maze. The realisation that I couldn't go on hit me harder than the temperature of the water. Pulling myself out of the water once more, I crawled into the only space that I could find in the channel. I held my hands up to my face, noticing the blue shade my fingers had turned. My body had lost all its survival instinct. I started to feel myself uncontrollably fall asleep, my eyelids the heaviest they had ever been. I let them close, letting exhaustion overtake me.

"Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing." I began to whisper to myself, shivering. "Her father promised her…her…father…promised…" I could not find the strength to continue as I succumbed to the shadows.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Three_

Raoul writhed in pain on the floor of the ball room, an audience gathering on the grand staircase to watch Madame Giry at work. Without the luxury of a local anaesthetic, she worked as gently as she could on Raoul's wound, slowly removing the Phantom's blade and intending to stitch him up where it had struck him.

Madame you truly are a woman of all trades!" Monsieur Firman announced loud enough for all to hear him and inspiring Monsieur Andre to grin from ear to ear at them all, clearly both proud of their ballet mistress.

"I need complete silence for this Monsieur." She replied, not looking up from the eye of the needle she was trying to pass a length of thread through. "I need to concentrate - it would help if I did not have this many prying eyes." The masked guests did not need to be told twice, as couple by couple – including Carlotta and Piangi - they bid farewell to the Managers, slowly vacated the premises and rode their carriages home, disappointed that the Bal Masque had ended before the stroke of midnight, and as a result, the New Year.

"In God's name, make haste woman!" Raoul exclaimed in frustration. "I am running out of time, I need to rescue Christine from that…that madman!"

"Patience Monsieur le Vicomte, if I can make these stitches small as possible, you could be lucky enough to avoid the accompanying scar." Madame Giry explained, trying to pacify him as she held the needle over an open flame from a nearby candle to sterilise it. "I would brace yourself." She confessed, the needle now threaded and ready to pierce his skin. "This is going to hurt. I usually suggest holding onto something or someone to keep your mind off the pain, and to help ease it." Meg quickly appeared at Raoul's side, taking off her mask and laying it on the floor beside her.

"Here, take my hand." She offered, smiling compassionately at him. She had seen her mother perform similar operations before, and knew exactly how excruciating the pain was, especially without some form of anaesthetic. Raoul gladly accepted her offer, inspecting her face and taking in each of her dainty features before giving her a coy smile. He vaguely remembered Christine mention Madame Giry's daughter to him before, but had not realised the extent of her extraordinary beauty. He could not believe that he had not given Meg a second glance before - considering his past taste for blondes - realising his attention had been completely fixated on Christine and their relationship for the past six months. Before Raoul could mutter a word to Meg, Madame Giry made the first incision with her needle. Raoul screwed his face up and blasphemed, screaming in pain every time the needle delved into his skin, Meg helping her mother by holding Raoul down with her free hand as Raoul crushed the other. She looked up, noticing the Managers both turning a dull shade of green before excusing themselves from the situation and retreating to their office.

After what had seemed an eternity of excruciating pain, Madame Giry quietly announced in French that she was finished and applied a neat dressing over the wound. Raoul could do nothing but lay on the cold marble floor, fighting his body's natural response to go into shock. Sitting himself up, he realised he was still clutching Meg's hand. Ever the gentleman, Raoul remembered himself. "My apologies Mademoiselle, I thank you for your kind assistance." He spoke, placing a dainty kiss on her knuckles, keeping his eyes locked with hers the whole time before begrudgingly letting go. "And to you too Madame Giry, I apologise if I was not the easiest of patients to treat."

"Think nothing of it Monsieur." She said, a little apprehensive of his behaviour towards her daughter. Raoul finally stood, his mind only focused on finding Christine and slaughtering her captor. "You should consider yourself lucky". Madame Giry continued.

"Lucky?! How am I in any way lucky Madame? Christine is gone, my _fiancée_ is gone! And now only God knows what that _monster_ is doing to her!" He exclaimed. "How could I let her slip through my fingers?" He said, almost in a whisper.

"Monsieur, that blade was dangerously close to your heart. You know that our Opera Ghost has killed before, and done so skilfully and flawlessly." Madame Giry began.

"You sound like a fervent admirer of his work-"

"My point is Monsieur - if he had wanted to have killed you, he would have killed you. Do you not find it at all strange that he just so happened to have attacked you and hit you in a very precise spot on your body that did not touch anything of any great importance or make you bleed profusely?" Raoul could not find the words to respond, his thoughts fixated on Christine's welfare.

In that moment, the Managers returned, a hand written note in Monsieur Andre's hand, identical to that of ones they had previously received from the Opera Ghost.

"Answers!" Monsieur Firman cried out, handing it to Raoul to read aloud.

"_Fondest greetings to you all._

_A few instructions just before rehearsals for my Opera commence. _

_Once again, do not fear for Miss Daae. The Angel of Music has her under his wing where she has always belonged. _

_I have assigned Miss Daae the role of Aminta. Should this casting be changed, I will not be held accountable for my actions, and another disaster beyond your imagination would not be too difficult for me to execute. _

_She will return to you on the night of the debut performance which is to be held in approximately four months time._

_Further details will follow in due course._

_I remain gentlemen, your obedient servant,_

_O.G"_

Everyone stood quietly, the Phantom's words sinking in as they tried to decipher his encrypted note. The nearby clock tower in the courtyard outside began to strike twelve.

"Happy New Year." Monsieur Andre whispered, the returned stillness deafening. Raoul was restless; he would not take orders from the _thing_ that kept his beloved Christine prisoner.

"Madame Giry please…you must have some idea of their whereabouts?" Raoul questioned, finally breaking the silence that had seemed to last for hours.

"I must confess I don't know Monsieur. People have lived and worked here for decades and have never found even a trace of him." She explained.

"I will not wait for four months to see her again. I will find her, mark my words." Raoul stormed off and away from the group. Ignoring the pains in his chest, his mind brimmed with ideas of vengeance.

* * *

**A/N**: Well, Raoul is alive! As for Christine…you will have to wait and see ;) Short chapter I know but Chapter Four will be posted very soon, just giving it some finishing touches before posting it. Question: Do _you_ think Erik missed Raoul on purpose? R&R please :) x


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter Four_

I knew and had accepted in my heart that I had slipped away from the mortal world, my life on earth no longer existent and knew my memory would soon be forgotten. My body had laid to rest in the coldest and darkest of places imaginable, untraceable to those who would look for me, my soul released into the ethereal. I inhaled a smile, feeling nothing but contentment, and let my eyes slowly flutter open, expecting to be reunited with my father amongst all the angels of Heaven. As my father lay dying when I was a child, he told me that he would send me the Angel of Music to protect me until we were together again in paradise.

My vision slowly came into focus, as I was faced with a familiar candle-lit room, populated with a tall, dark figure, gently lighting groups of candles around the room until a warm glow surrounded us. I was alive, very much alive, my soul desperately clinging to the flesh of my body. The dark maze was now a distant memory of my life; it seemed a nightmare that I had just awoken from. I was once again in the bed of my Angel, the feel of the sheets caressing my skin and providing me with warmth and safety from the elements. My mind couldn't help but replay the events of the last time I had awoken in this bedroom, although only months had passed, it seemed like a lifetime ago, my situation so different then.

I sat myself up, watching him make his way towards me after blowing out a final match. He joined me, perching beside me on the bed. His attire had changed from when we had last been together, the harsh red tones of his costume extinguished by his usual black suit. I held his gaze for what seemed like an eternity, neither one of us brave enough to utter a word to one-another.

"How…how did you find me?" I finally managed to ask.

"Well, I wouldn't be a very good Opera Ghost if I didn't know every inch of my labyrinth now, would I?" He stretched out his hand and offered it to me. I hesitated, the nature of his intentions unclear to me. Before I knew it, my body had betrayed me and gladly accepted it, his fingers caressing mine as he lowered it down to rest amongst the sheets with his. I quickly averted my gaze from his fondling hand and back up to his eyes, a look of sincerity in them. "Why, Christine? Why would you put yourself in such danger?" He said, almost in a hurtful whisper. In spite of everything, I could not help but still feel a sense of loyalty towards him.

"I'm sorry Angel, I panicked! I feared I…I couldn't be without him. I can't be without him! Please Angel you must understand I-"

"You could have been killed." He responded coldly. The gravity of his words hit me out of nowhere. I broke off our eye contact and retracted my hand away from his grasp. I stared at my hands, playing with them in my anxiety, my fear for Raoul's life once again dominating my thoughts.

"I thank God I found you when I did." He confessed, lifting my chin with his forefinger to once again meet my eyes. "A minute or two later and…I can't even bear to think of it." Guilt spread through me like wildfire; it hurt me to think of him frightened for my welfare. "That is why you will remain down here with me, Christine. How else can I protect you?"

"Angel, I…I don't-"

"In your distress earlier this evening" he interrupted "you did not let me finish my sentence." My mouth dried, the blood draining from my face. "I had a proposition for you."

"Yes, I remember." I replied, trying to not let him sense the unease in my voice, apprehension coursing through my veins.

"I apologise for interrupting your Masquerade Ball, I know of how you longed to attend and how happy you were when you knew that you could." I did not need to ask how he had come to know this. He was the eyes and ears of the Opera Populaire, and even the smallest of insignificant information would have somehow reached him. "But there is method in my madness. You will recall I handed over the final score of my opera, _Don Juan Triumphant, _to your Managers last night?"

"Yes, I remember Angel. You have enthused to me about it since I was a girl."

"That is the explanation of my absence in these past six months." He confessed. "My every waking moment was dedicated to its completion. Whilst you slept off the effects of your dangerous endeavour, I returned to the surface to deliver a set of further instructions. In short, I have assigned you the lead female character; a young woman named Aminta." He inched himself further towards me, taking both my hands in his and holding them to his chest. "You will sing for me." He whispered, almost inaudibly. "_Don Juan Triumphant_ will dominate my opera house, your voice will once again echo through every chasm, and the whole world will know you are mine." I shuddered at his dominance.

"Christine, all I ask, is that you remain down here with me. Rehearse with me, and let me restore your voice to its former glory." He paused for a moment as if deep in thought before continuing. "By my calculations, your Managers will commence rehearsals before the week is out. If they know what is good for them that is. The debut performance is set for the month of April, giving you and I four months to prepare you." Confusion quickly tainted my understanding.

"But Angel how am I to -?"

"Ah, how are you to rehearse without the remainder of your cast? As I said Christine, you will rehearse with me. Not only your singing, but also your dialogue and stage presence. Do you not think it possible for me to create a masterpiece after years of dedication and not know every stage direction for each individual character no matter how important or insignificant they are to the plot?" I couldn't dignify that question with an answer. "You will practice with me daily; sing for me, and only for me. My little songbird." Panic laced my every breath as I retracted from his grasp.

"And if I should refuse your intensions?" I asked bravely, fearing his response.

"Christine…" The impact of my words had evidently wounded him, the hurt pooling in his eyes. A mere moment passed before this turned into a vehement anger that appeared to physically pulse through his veins. "You may leave at any time you wish. By all means, feel free to try and escape now, but know this – every plausible exit has its own bespoke mechanism designed to trap its victim. You, yourself were a victim a mere twelve hours ago before I found you…and I will not be so merciful as to rescue you again." I sat in silence, my fate sealed.

"I-I have no choice." Tears began to well in my eyes. "And how long do you intend to keep me a _prisoner_?" He appeared to wince at my choice of word to describe my situation, but continued as if he had not heard me correctly.

"Once the performance is over, I will grant you your freedom." I let go of the pent up sigh I had not even realised I was holding, and closed my eyes, letting my tears once again cascade down my face. I could do nothing but picture Raoul's face, unable to come to terms with his possible death. I would not believe it to be true.

"Christine, will you accept my proposal?" I opened my eyes to face him again; unable to believe I was willing to acquiesce to his demands.

"I-I do." My Angel looked at me, beckoning for a clear-cut answer. "I submit my voice, body and soul to you, master. I will sing for you." I held back my sobs, silently choking on them. He lanced forward aggressively with a low growl, cupping my face between his hands, shaking as he planted a dainty kiss on my forehead, seeming as if it pained him to do so, the cool of his mask against my face.

"Remember what I told you Christine" he whispered, his lips grazing my hairline "please remember." He stood, walking towards the entrance of the room. "We have four months to prepare you." He stated proudly, his composure returned. "Go back to sleep Christine, you must recover from your trauma before we can start." With that remark he left me, alone to battle with my emotions.

My body had seemed to obey his command, the need for sleep slowly overcoming me again. As I willingly set myself underneath the covers once more, his every word dominated my thoughts. I reasoned with my conscience, assuring myself that I could endure four months with my Angel of Music, my every waking moment under his command. In my heart I knew that somewhere above us, Raoul was somehow still alive, and I knew he would endeavour to find me; he had promised to protect me forever. He _promised_…I had to do this for him, for us, to endure this hell to be able to be with him again. I would not submit to the possibility that he had been so mercilessly killed, prematurely stolen from me before our lives had even started.

My eyes began to flutter closed as my Angel's last words before his departure rang clear in my mind, the memory of what he had meant suddenly clear to me.

"_Fear can turn to love_." I whispered, feeling hopeless as my body let sleep overpower me.


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter Five_

I awoke once again, and unable to will myself to move, I could do nothing but stare at the ceiling above me. I had dreamt of nothing, my mind plagued with darkness stretching out before me into perpetuity. Unable to determine the time, I sat myself up in the bed once again, the faint sound of a pretty melody filling the cavern, enticing me to find its origin.

It was not until I had removed myself from the bed that I noticed the change in my attire. My undergarments and stockings had remained in place, yet I could not feel the constriction of my corset, an oversized men's shirt drowning my figure. Removing it, I confirmed what I already knew to be true; _he_ had taken it off me. Hugging myself to cover my bare breasts, I blushed and let out a quiet gasp of disbelief, feeling almost violated. No one had seen me naked before, not even Raoul despite his persistence.

Tossing the shirt on the bed, I looked around the room for a suitable replacement and eyed my white dressing robe on a chair in the corner of the room. I wrapped myself in it and tied off the bow at the side, not questioning how it had miraculously taken itself out of my dressing room wardrobe and appeared down here, conveniently waiting for me.

I sought after the faint sounds of the piano that had awoken me from my slumber. Eyeing the vast underground space that my Angel resided in, I immediately spotted him, making my way down a path of cold stone steps that sent a chill up my spine with each small decent. Déjà vu irritatingly hit me, the memory of my previous overnight stay turning in my mind. I swallowed my anxiety, remembering my promise to him. With each step I took towards him, I reminded myself over and over to keep myself in his good graces, to stay on his good side, hoping it would make my time trapped with him all the more tolerable.

Before I could reach him, he sensed my presence and turned to face me, a smile crossing his lips as the melody he was playing ceased. "Christine." He announced proudly, stretching out a hand to me, beckoning me to his side. I hesitantly complied, placing my hand in his as I stood before him. "I began to fear you would never wake." The room was cold, my skin covering itself in goose bumps in defence, my nipples hardening against the soft material of my robe. Retracting my hand from his, I crossed my arms over my breasts, remembering my discovery.

"W-why did you-"

"Forgive me Christine, it was restricting your breathing and slowing your recovery. I had to remove it." He interrupted, already having guessed my question. "I apologise for the apparel I had dressed you in, it was all that I could find when we returned from your little…endeavour." I didn't like his tone; his words making me feel like a scolded child. "On that note, come with me." He stood and walked past me, beckoning me to follow him.

For a moment I paused, unable to will my legs to move. Sensing my reserve he retreated back to me, offering an outstretched hand. "Do not be afraid." He murmured. I hesitantly accepted, letting him lead me to the entrance of a room I did not remember from my previous visits. It was shrouded in a midnight blue fabric, which upon closer inspection I identified as taffeta, a layer of black lace embroidered on top. Never taking his eyes off of me, he placed a separate length of the material between my hands, which I noticed was cascading from a small hole in the uneven ceiling above us.

"Pull it." He instructed. I hesitantly obeyed, and jumped slightly as I watched the curtain begin to rise, slowly revealing its concealed secret. A small gasp disobediently escaped from my mouth as I observed what had been set before my eyes, a smile forming at the corner of my Angel's mouth. Etched deep into the rock was a bedroom of similar size to that of his, which was situated a few metres away.

"Come." He whispered, leading me into it and exposing me to its splendour. "For you…my Christine." The room was primarily dominated by a large bed encased in a golden frame, covered in layer upon layer of pillows and satin sheets in all manner of shades of dusty pink. I walked over and glided my fingertips over them, surprised by just how soft they were, even more so than my Angel's in his room next door. Turning around I drank in my surroundings. The room was brightly lit, aided by several groups of candles - which upon closer inspection I knew to be rose-scented – placed on every possible surface and in every available nook and cranny of the walls. I felt myself blush; feeling almost embarrassed knowing my Angel was observing my every move and reaction. Keeping him in my peripheral vision, I continued my exploration.

By the entrance was a vanity - a large oval mirror encased in a golden frame, with a smaller oval-shaped mirror either side of it. For a moment I wondered how I had even managed to overlook it when I had entered the room. Upon the surface, I recognised all of my daily essentials required to style my hair and apply my makeup, laid out exactly as I had had them in my dressing room above ground. The extent of the detail and the trouble he had gone to astounded me; it was all so…so perfect.

"I-I cannot accept all this." I admitted, feeling overwhelmed and turning to face him. He simply smiled, walking towards me and holding me by my upper arms.

"You can, and you will. I insist."

I could not fathom a plausible response, letting him lead me to the corner of the room which I had not yet investigated. Finally, I had a large wardrobe –four paralleled doors next to each other and accompanying drawers beneath each compartment - and a screen, presumably for my privacy when changing, both furnishings in the gold-painted wood to match my bed frame and vanity.

The first door I opened revealed items from my usual dressing room wardrobe, which like my dressing robe had also suspiciously found their way down here. The next two doors revealed a whole array of brand new everyday dresses, each a beautiful, rich colour and exquisitely embroidered, with several new pairs of heels varying in different heights underneath them. Kneeling down, I opened the drawers one by one, noticing they each had a specific purpose; one for underwear, one for stockings, one for underskirts and finally one which housed 2-3 new corsets, which I noticed laced up at the front as opposed to the back. I turned to look at him, a hint of confusion on my face.

"I figured, these would be a lot easier to do up by yourself." He confessed, a suggestion of embarrassment lacing his voice.

"Oh." I gasped, immediately feeling shy.

"And look Christine." He said, indicating towards the final door which I had yet to open. I did so, and found that the last compartment housed a single dress…_my_ beloved dress that I had worn to the Bal Masque merely hours before. I then realised he must have found it when he had eventually realised I was missing. "I know it was special to you." He whispered, standing directly behind me. I reached out and caressed the material, completely overcome with gratitude.

"Thank you…my Angel." I whispered, and for a moment he did not respond.

"Erik." He spoke simply.

"Hmm?" I asked, confused by his response and turning to face him.

"Erik…my name is Erik." _Oh. _It was strange to me; I had never even contemplated my Angel having a real name.

"Erik…w-would you prefer me to call you that?"

"Call me what you will my dear, use whatever you prefer." I had come to accept in my heart that he was no Angel, no more divine than I or the next person. He was a worldly being, merely flesh and blood, and yet...no. I couldn't let my childish fantasies camouflage the truth of my situation – I was still being held against my will, despite his generosity he could not dress up that fact.

"Dress yourself. I will be waiting." He announced, leaving the room before I could protest against his kindness further. I sat on the bed, trying to take in the past 48 hours. I was still completely overwhelmed by the situation – regardless of its beauty, this room was my prison cell, my time with him not an option, it was compulsory, my voice enslaved to his beck and call.

I shook my head, letting my negative thoughts escape. Standing and approaching my wardrobe, I opened the doors and picked myself out one of the new dresses he had bought me, hoping that such an act would please him. It was a beautiful emerald-green colour, with a pattern of black sequins and lace that lined the v-shaped neck line, which once on, I noticed revealed a small fraction of my cleavage – not helped by my new corset, which was of course, much easier to do up as he had anticipated.

Sitting myself at my vanity, I combed my curls through, and used a number of bobby pins from a convenient container holding dozens of them to style my hair, letting the majority of it descend down my back. Applying a minimal amount of makeup, and covering my fading scars on my arms and hands with my face powder, I paused to look at myself in the mirror before closing my eyes.

_"Raoul? Please. If you can hear me, know I am alive, know I am well," _I began to whisper to myself_ "I love you, and I count the hours until I am with you again."_

I still hopelessly clung to the idea that Raoul was somehow still alive, somewhere above me and looking for me. Suddenly, I once again heard the piano emit the pretty melody that had earlier awoken me from my slumber. Opening my eyes I stood, ready to face my destiny.

* * *

**A/N**: Apologies for the late update! Had a lot on recently, but should be back to posting more regularly now.

What do you think of Christine's new digs?


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter Six_

"Brava, my Christine." Erik announced, standing from the piano and walking to me before cupping my face in his hands. He had wasted no time in beginning to reconstruct my range; our entire session first spent practicing the scales, before repeating my major and minor arpeggios, the aid of his piano guiding me through each one.

Despite my predicament, I had missed singing for him and the confidence it filled me with, I could not help but feel grateful, and loyal to my Angel. And yet, an unfamiliar burn plagued my throat, my body finding the projection of my voice difficult to adjust back to. Erik must have sensed this, my capability slowly beginning to decline as each note felt all the more painful as we progressed.

"I must leave you for a while to rest; I do not wish to damage the progress we have made today." I smiled, breathing a little sigh of relief and giving him an agreeing nod as I peeked up at him through my eyelashes. "I have some errands to run." He confessed, leaving me to retrieve his cloak.

"O-okay." I replied in an almost frightened tone, eyeing his desk and sensing a rare opportunity. He smiled and returned to me, caressing my cheek with the back of his hand.

"I will return before you have even noticed I am gone." He assured me, although I needed no reassurance. "Rest, my Christine." And with that, he was gone, leaving me alone in his home. I immediately ran to his desk and quickly gathered around a dozen sheets of his parchment, holding them to my chest. Also eyeing a quill and a small pot of ink – both of which seemed unused - I swiftly gathered them up into my embrace and ran for my bedroom.

I hastily looked around before eyeing my vanity, opening one of the drawers and placing my stolen writing materials in it before quickly closing it. I'd had an idea of how to attract the attention of someone aboveground, hoping it would somehow lead them to me. I just had to wait for the right opportunity.

Walking back down to the main room, I sighed and let my hand wander to my chest plate, the weight of my engagement ring noticeable absent. I so longed to feel it again, and hated my decision to not wear it properly, but knew in my heart that I couldn't have done. I stopped the dispute with myself and daringly decided to search for my ring, after all, it was mine, and not his to take away from me. Quickly looking around the room to make sure I was still alone, I headed back to his desk, remembering that I had seen a set of drawers next to it.

I opened the top drawer, its contents completely full to the brim with page upon page of hand-written sheet music. Getting to the bottom of the layers, I noticed something glistening at the back of the drawer, and upon closer inspection, it appeared to be a trinket box, fashioned into the shape of a heart. Quickly turning around to make sure Erik still had not returned during my search, I gently took it between my hands and retrieved it. I sat it upon his work surface, admiring the shine of the silver, not one mark of imperfection tarnishing it.

I turned around once again to ensure I still had no audience, the haunting emptiness of the vast underground space staring back at me. I slowly removed the lid and gave an almost inaudible gasp as I eyed the little alcove of treasures before me, gently placing the lid to the side of it. Almost immediately I found my ring and beamed a smile with relief, as I brought it to my lips to give it a dainty kiss, then held it to my heart.

I had found what I had initially been looking for, but could not resist the call of the remaining contents, just waiting for me to uncover their secrets. I decided to explore, keeping my engagement ring firmly in my grasp the whole time. Delving my free hand into the unknown, I flinched as I felt something sharp prick my forefinger. "Ow!" I murmured, inspecting my minor injury and sucking the pin-prick hole that had begun to bleed, in the hope that it would help to heal it.

Upon closer inspection, I found what had pierced my skin – a beautiful oval shaped brooch, encrusted with dozens of diamonds, although it was evident that one or two were missing from their placements. The pin itself was completely bent out of shape, unable to meet the clasp any longer despite my efforts to fashion it back into shape.

I set it aside, and searching through the contents again I found a small length of pink ribbon, both ends at the precipice of beginning to fray. It began to puzzle me, where had it come from? A mislaid ribbon of one of the chorus' ballet shoes maybe? Meg and I often misplaced ours, much to the frustration of Madame Giry. I gave it no further thought, laying it aside the brooch, my intrigue wanting me to investigate further.

My brows knitted together at what I thought to be a small photograph laying at the bottom of the box, and indeed it was. Carefully picking it up, I held it up to one of the nearby candles, the picture faint, fading with age. Staring back at me was the image of a man, probably in his late 20s, his likeness seeming familiar to me. His posture told me that he was a gentleman of high rank, and yet his eyes seemed to portray something all the more melancholy. I heaved a sigh, checking the back of the image for a date, which to my surprise, there wasn't, except the faint scrawling of what looked to be a woman's handwriting, which read: _C. Destler. _I did not recognise the name, and yet there was something haunting about his face. I shook my head, discarding the photo to the pile of items I had already examined.

Not pausing for thought, I quickly sucked the tip of my finger again and looked back to the box, which was empty, save two folded up pieces of parchment. I picked up the one closest to me, and carefully began to unfold it, mindful that it was fragile to the touch, the colour of the paper fading in places. I immediately recognised that it was a piece of sheet music, although it appeared very complicated. Each stanza was entirely dominated by notes, and in my experience of sheet music, or lack thereof, I could not even hope to attempt to read it. Confused to see it did not have a title, I folded it up again, placing it with the other items and reaching for the remaining slip of paper.

Opening it, the page was uneven down the left hand side, and the small text covered both sides of the page, bringing me to the conclusion that it had been torn from a book. This immediately sparked my interest. I had always been an avid reader - and was encouraged to be by my father – and it seemed that one of my particular favourites was coincidentally the origin of the extract I had at my fingertips, as I noticed the printed title at the top of both sides of the page - _La Belle et la Bête._I quickly scanned both sides before folding it back up and once again looking slowly over each item, wondering what their connection could be, if indeed there were any connection at all.

"Christine?" I froze, holding back my gasp as I heard a deep, yet familiar voice behind me. I mentally kicked myself for my invasive curiosity, how long had I been standing there absentmindedly looking through his possessions, knowing he would eventually return? "What are you doing?" He questioned, the tone of his voice changing from intrigued to impatient. I willed my imagination to think of some way to escape my situation, knowing the wrath I would otherwise have to face. It gave me nothing, and so I answered with just that.

"N-nothing I-"

"Turn to me." He commanded interrupting me, his voice suddenly authoritative. I closed my eyes in trepidation, anxiety lacing my every breath as I tried to stop myself from physically shaking in fear. I could do nothing but obey him. The weight of my engagement ring and its accompanying chain grew heavy, making my palm sweat as I tightened my grip around it as if to somehow hide its presence. I turned to him, beaming a welcoming smile and letting my arms hang at my sides, the volume of my dress somewhat hiding my hands.

"Erik, my Angel, I'm so glad you have returned-"

"What is in your hand Christine?" He had interrupted me again, and I knew that my forced sweet disposition could not talk me out of this situation.

"N-nothing." I insisted nervously, my façade defying me.

"Hold it out to me then." I hesitated, but then after a moment of temporary genius thought, I complied, holding out my free hand towards him and displaying my empty palm and giving him a proud smile. He was not convinced. "And the other?" Fear hit me like a tidal wave, he had not been deterred. I bit my lip in trepidation, unable to keep my eyes locked with his, letting them wander to the floor. "Christine?" I closed my eyes and offered him my hand that concealed my secret.

Silence gripped us for what felt like forever, and in my confusion I forced my eyes open one at a time to face him once more. Impatience had grown in his eyes, and without reservation, he lanced forward and grabbed my wrist. Before I could protest, he began to pry my tightly gripped fingers open, the leather of his gloves burning my skin in his grasp as I fought to escape. The strength in my hand failed me, and my balled up fist opened like a delicate flower, Raoul's ring glinting at us in the candlelight.

The hurt of my betrayal was written all over his face, or rather, the side not shrouded by his mask. Before he could utter a word to me, his peripheral vision drew his attention away from me to his desk, the contents of his trinket box unearthed and examined. I swallowed, afraid for my life as he grabbed me by my shoulders, his anger making him shake violently.

"Why Christine, why?!" He momentarily looked down, his attention drawn back to the ring before snatching it from my grasp and holding it up to me by the chain. "You are mine do you understand?! You belong to me! That insolent _boy_ is gone. Forget him!" He released his grasp and retreated from me, slamming the ring on the desk.

"I will never forget him," I whispered, suddenly feeling brave, "you…you cannot change what is in my heart." He seemed to ignore my words, swiftly removing his cape and resting it over the back of the desk chair before repeating the same with his gloves. "I will love him forever Angel!"

"He is _dead_ Christine!" He shouted back, my heart instantly wrenching at his claim. "_Dead_… Christine…" he murmured, slowly walking back towards me "dead…and _buried_." My cheeks flushed and my eyes burned as my mouth fell agape, my every intake of air laced with pain as if I were breathing in shards of glass.

Before I could protest he had pulled me into his embrace, my palms flat against his chest. One of his hands gathered at the small of my back to keep me locked in his grasp, the other cupped my face, the thumb caressing my check.

"My heart…_aches_ for you Christine." He whispered, pulling me closer into him, his head falling to my shoulder between my curls to rest at the nape of my neck, his slow exhalation tickling me and making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

"And my heart…belongs to Raoul," I whispered back, "it always has." He withdrew his face to look in my eyes once again, keeping me firmly in his embrace.

"He is _dead_…Christine." He reiterated matter-of-factly.

"I don't believe that…I won't believe it." I confessed, attempting to hide the hurt in my voice.

"Christine…my darling." Before I could protest, he crushed his misshapen lips to mine, making me struggle in his arms. "I love you," he admitted against my lips and breaking the kiss, his eyes remaining closed, "I can take care of you…please just love me in return."

"Please do not ask this of me! I will never love you! I never have and I never will!" I almost flinched at my own choice of words as he immediately loosened his hold on me, and I ceased struggling in his embrace. He said nothing and withdrew his arms, releasing me. I could see in his eyes that my words had wounded him deeply.

"Christine..." He whispered, turning from me to place the disarray of mysterious items and my ring back in the trinket box and clumsily replacing the lid. Without hesitation, I ran. I ran from him as fast as I could back to the sanctuary he had created for me. Standing in the centre of my room, I span around in panic trying to find a place to conceal myself, if only for a moment. I eyed my bed, realising it did not reach the floor, and without thinking I scurried under it like a frightened child, tripping on my dress in my haste.

I brushed my fingertips over my lips. I knew Erik would never hurt me, but I had betrayed his trust. I had to give him time to recuperate, and myself time to think. I needed to somehow let the world above know that I was down here. Remembering the writing materials I had taken a little while ago, I decided now was the opportune moment to put my plan into action whilst I still had time.

* * *

**A/N**: Another late update…please don't lasso me! Instead please tell me what you thought :)


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter Seven_

Erik hammered down on the keys of his piano, his mind wrought with resentment for himself and his behaviour. An entire day had passed since he had forced himself onto Christine, and not once had she stirred from her room. He hated himself for his lack of decorum, his inability to restrain his desire. Composing was all he could do to release, and yet simultaneously contain his torment, his fingers beginning to feel that familiar burn with fatigue.

Despite his best efforts to convince her otherwise, Christine still believed her Vicomte to be alive, and it was evident that her heart still longed for him. It pained him to even think on the very notion, but there was no doubt of it. Tripping up on a first, second, and then third note, Erik relented his playing and slammed his fists against the keys, the sound bellowing through the catacombs. He was wild with jealousy, resting his elbows against the instrument and cradling his aching head in his hands in realisation, that her heart would never be his.

He turned and focused his gaze on the room he had created for his songbird. The curtain he had fashioned for a door had remained down since Christine had escaped from his side. Oh how he wished he had not given her the privilege of such privacy! She had not left her room since their encounter, despite his numerous attempts to coax her out with whispers of apologies and promises that he would never touch her again without her express permission to do so. He could not bring himself to enter uninvited either, for fear that he would push her away even further.

She'd had not a crumb to eat, nor a drop to drink, ignoring each meal and accompanying beverage he'd left her outside her chamber, leaving each of them to go cold or stale. And every time he returned to claim her plate in hope, he flinched inwardly to see nothing had been touched, breathing a silent sigh of despair that she was so repulsed by him that it hindered her appetite.

Rising from his piano he sat himself at his desk and took out his primary quill, absentmindedly noticing that his second was missing before beginning to write furiously on the page in front of him, his script a little unkempt from his usually elegant hand. In despair, he wrote the inevitable:

_Sirs,_

_It is with regret that I must inform you that Miss Daae will not perform in my Opera as previously stipulated, and will be returned to you in due course._

_I demand that this change will not hinder her career, and that she will be automatically considered for all predominant female roles for as long as it please her._

_Rehearsals will continue, and no cast changes are to be made to replace Miss Daae without my permission in light of this news._

_Yours,_

_O.G._

Begrudgingly he signed his initials and closed the letter with his unique seal, knowing that once it was received, he would have to keep his word and somehow return Christine to the surface…but he could not bear to think of that now.

He fluidly retrieved his cape and fastened it around his neck, readying himself to deliver his instruction to the world above. For a moment he wondered whether or not to inform Christine of his absence, but abandoned the thought immediately as he approached the gondola and slowly stepped inside, keeping it balanced upon the water. He turned back to look at his home, releasing a sigh he had not realised he had kept pent up as he begin his journey.

The catacombs screamed melancholy, somehow more than usual, as if his own mood painted the walls of his underground domain. Looking for weaknesses in the ceiling and walls as per his normal routine, his eyes fell to the ripples of water ahead of him. His brows knitted in confusion and intrigue, the lack of light from the few wall mounted torches making him squint as if to make his vision clearer.

He immediately dropped his long staff he used to guide him through the passageways, letting it hit the floor beneath the water with an audible thud, bringing to gondola to a halt. He paused, the strangest of phenomena before him; around four or five boats...each only a few inches tall, fashioned from what appeared to be sheets of his own signature paper.

Carefully kneeling down slowly as to keep his vessel steady, he stretched out his hand, his fingertips coaxing the tip of the miniature boat into the palm of his hand. He sat back and admired the simple craftsmanship before noticing another folded up piece of paper attached to the sail with a bobbypin. No...surely she hadn't.

Erik let out an exasperated and surprised gasp at the situation he found himself in. Is this what had kept Christine so occupied? Origami?! How on earth had she crept out of her room undetected to place them upon the water? Carefully retrieving the remaining nearby boats, he lined them all next to each other, each an exact replica of the next.

Removing the folded up piece of paper from one of the creations, he gently unfolded it, noticing the use of an effeminate hand...it was Christine's without a doubt. Erik retrieved each note one by one, all varying in detail and recipient, but all seemed to speak of the same predicament, one in particular catching his eye.

_My Dearest Raoul, _

_I cannot put a sufficient amount of words to paper that would tell you how much I miss you._

_My darling, if you are reading this, I beg of you, please come for me. _

_I am being held against my will by the Angel of Music, and cannot escape._

_If you have found this message at the mouth of the catacombs, follow the tunnels as best you can and try to remain out of the water._

_I don't know how much longer I can stand this solitude, my mind replaying our final moment together over and over. I cannot bear to think of you hurt or...worse_

_Oh my love I count the hours until I am in your arms again._

_My love, forever,_

_Christine _

Erik's grip tightened on the note between his fingertips, creasing the paper. He tossed it to one side, impatient to find out who else Christine had summoned help from.

_To the finder of this note,_

_I implore you, please help me._

_I am being held captive beneath the Opera House and cannot escape._

_My captor has such a powerful hold over me, I fear what should happen if I were to disobey him again._

_I am so afraid._

_I -_

Erik could not continue, he could not read of her torment any longer, noticing her handwriting become more and more dishevelled. His heart wrenched deep in his chest at the thought of her frightened and all alone. How could she have ever thought he would hurt her, hurt anything so beautiful, so innocent and pure? He quickly scanned the remaining three letters, noting that they were addressed to his Managers, Madame Giry and her daughter Meg, all baring an identical message to that of the last.

He stood with purpose, leaving the pile of notes at his feet as he began to guide the gondola back to his home, and to his Christine. It was time to break the silence.

* * *

I knelt at the side of my bed, clasping my hands together so tightly that the threat of pins and needles began to beckon me. "Our father who art in heaven, hallowed by thy name..." I began to whisper almost inaudibly. How many times had I prayed for deliverance? For someone to find my pleas of help upon the lake? To have my saviour walk through my door and take me away from this place? For Raoul to still be alive and well? I squeezed my eyes shut, ignoring my irksome questions. "Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth, as it is in heav-", I stopped and gasped, feeling someone gently place their hand on my shoulder. I held my breath in excitement as my heart leapt in my chest in anticipation.

"Christine?" A familiar voice murmured from behind me. I opened my eyes and exhaled my unnecessary excitement bitterly, knowing that the voice undoubtedly belonged to Erik. I kept perfectly still as if I had not known he was there at all, my skin beginning to prickle in anticipation as I felt his gaze burn the back of my head. My bare shoulder had never been so sensitive, my body tensing as his fingertips travelled down my neck and then to my chin, cupping it before turning my head up to meet his eyes. He retracted his hand as I averted my gaze, noticing in my peripheral vision that he had outstretched his hand as if to beckon me to stand and face him. A moment passed that seemed to last an eternity before he spoke again, "Christine, please, do me this one thing."

"Give me one reason why I should ever speak to you again, Erik?" I replied, suddenly feeling very brave.

"Because my dear," he paused, retrieving something from the inside of his suit jacket pocket, "you have some explaining to do." He said matter-of-factly, placing a pile of folded up pieces of paper on the bed before me which I immediately recognised. My stomach dropped in realisation that my notes, my only chance of escape, had failed me. All the planning, the escaping from my room unnoticed whilst he had fallen asleep at his desk the night before, was all for nothing. I bit my lip in punishment of my stupidity, and as if to somehow prepare my body for the pain I was sure to endure for my disobedience. "Come to me Christine." He whispered, offering me his hand once more. A shiver ran down my spine, almost in relief as I turned to look in his eyes, seeing no anger reflected in them. I placed my hand in his tentatively and stood before him, never taking my eyes off of his, lost in their haunting gaze.

Before I could protest, he had pulled me into his embrace, one arm holding me by my waist, the other at the nape of my neck under my hair, holding my head to his chest, his billowing cloak surrounding me. "Forgive me Christine." He whispered despondently. Confusion hit me like a tidal wave, I had betrayed him again and _he _was asking forgiveness of _me_? But then my memory served me.

"For what?" I asked innocently.

"For everything, my Christine, everything."

"You misunderstand me," I replied coldly, "that is what I mean; there is too much to forgive." He tightening his hold on me, as if to somehow absorb all the hurt he had caused me.

"Christine…please…don't say that-"

"How could you?" I interjected. He released me from his embrace, taking my hands in his and holding them to his chest.

"I swear to you, I will never force myself upon you again, never touch you without your consent, I swear it Christine." I dropped my gaze, one of his hands immediately cupping my face gentle to stare into my eyes again. "I will never do anything to harm you, you will never be frightened again, I promise."

"And what of my Fiancé, Angel?" I replied, trying to mask the upset that laced my voice. "Could I ever call you that again now?" I whispered, walking from him to the other side of the room, turning my back to him. "You killed him…didn't you?"

"Christine, he-"

"Why?" I waited for his response, holding back my burning tears. I felt his presence behind me once again, not one word escaping his mouth as he placed his hands on my shoulders.

"Christine, please. I ask you only this. Live in harmony with me just for this short while, sing for me, let me prepare you for my opera. I shall ask no more of you once the curtain falls after your performance." He stood waiting for a response I felt unable to give. "I understand your pain," he admitted, "it's perfectly normal to be upset about losing your first love." I closed my eyes, a wave of unexpected nausea hitting me. "I know all too well." He whispered quietly, as if to himself.

"Erik…" In an instant, I felt weak, my body as heavy as lead. I had ignored it, but the evidence of my hunger began to betray me, my stomach giving a loud, dull cry.

"Christine!" My legs gave way, the sound of Erik's voice faint as I felt him gather me up in my arms.

* * *

Her body had finally given in to starvation, her small, delicate frame cradled in Erik's arms. Carrying her to the kitchen he sat her at the table. Awake but delirious, Christine longed for sustenance, darkness beckoning to overcome her. Erik returned swiftly, holding her head up and helping her take a few sips of water from the glass he had just poured before leaving her again to raid his cupboards. Within a moment he returned to Christine, placing an array of foods before her. He smiled, noticing that despite her hunger, she kept her decorum, taking only what would be considered 'ladylike' bites from one of the apples he had presented her with. She opened her eyes to look at him, the faint whisper of a "thank you" on her lips.

"Erik?" She spoke after a while.

"Yes, my Christine?" He responded in anticipation.

"I…I will sing for you. I give you my word." She spoke sweetly.

"Oh Christine" he whispered, "please excuse me for a moment." He replied regrettably, for want of never leaving her side again. He walked to his desk, an erasable smile on his face, retrieving the note he had written for his managers only an hour or so ago. He scoffed at his own ignorance, holding the message above the flame that had ironically melted the wax he had used to seal it. Never again would he come so close to losing his songbird, for now she sang for him, and him alone.

* * *

**A/N**: I've written and re-written and re-written this chapter so many times that I've actually lost count…finally I'm happy with it and can post it :) Please tell me what you think x


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N**: Virtual hugs to all you lovely reviewers!

Readers beware, there be spiders ahead…

* * *

_Chapter Eight_

As my hunger slowly began to fade, the dreamy haze surrounding me too began to recede, everything coming back into focus. Madame Giry had always been so strict with our diets, keeping us as thin as possible, but careful as to not take it to such an extremity that it would hinder our performance. However, starving myself over the past 24 hours had been nothing short of difficult. I'd been busy enough to distract myself from the hunger that had gnawed away at me the entire day, writing and sending out my pleas of help to anyone who would find them, and yet, the dull ache never waned. I ate until my body could take no more and then rose to find Erik.

He stood before me with his back to me, burning what appeared to be a sealed envelope on one of the larger of the surrounding candles. He had left me so abruptly, so unceremoniously that I had to follow and investigate why. And yet…I couldn't bring myself to intrude, my legs rooted to the floor, my gaze fixed on his every elusive move with curiosity.

The last of the document withered above the flame, the ashes falling to the cold stone floor before he flattened them with his boot. He let out a sigh – of what emotion, I could not tell – and reached into the top drawer of his desk, removing the silver trinket box I had investigated the night before and placing it atop his desk. He swiftly removed the lid and removed the length of pink ribbon, intertwining it between his fingers and giving it a lingering kiss.

"You were right Ariadne…you were always right." He whispered softly, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling.

I frowned in confusion, my mind plagued with questions. _Ariadne?_Who is she? Was that a letter addressed to _her_? I bit my lip as I fervently searched my mind for any trace of the name, thinking of every chorus girl that I had ever performed alongside in my time at the opera house, my memory serving me nothing to go on.

Distracted, my gaze fell to my dress billowing around me. Noticing the creases that had formed in the fabric, I began to slide my palms over them as if to make myself more presentable. I looked up through my eyelashes at Erik, who had evidently not noted my presence as he delicately placed the ribbon back into the trinket box and replaced the lid, keeping his hand firmly upon it as if the secrets within were about to spontaneously fly out and expose themselves. Gently running my fingers through my long curls, I pushed them behind my shoulders so they cascaded down my back. I quietly cleared my throat to attract his attention, which proved effective as he immediately snapped out of his daydream.

"Christine?"

I held my hands around my back, giving him a shy smile as he tentatively made his way towards me, a look in his eye that seemed as if he was discreetly trying to decipher how long he'd had an audience watching over him.

"Christine…angel, how are you feeling?" He questioned, gathering my hands up in his and holding them to his chest. And for a moment, I could not respond, lost in the deep blue pools of his eyes.

"Much better, thank you Erik." I finally spoke in almost a whisper, no longer distracted, somehow oblivious that he had cupped my face with his hand as if to inspect me all the more thoroughly.

"Are you still feeling dizzy?" Hi tipped my chin up, then down again, the threat of a frown creasing my forehead in my confusion as he inspected my eyes.

"No…"

"And not in the least bit faint?"

"No, I'm fine I promise." I responded with a giggle at his gentle check on my well-being.

"I have to be sure Christine," he responded seriously, his voice almost breaking "you've been through so much these past few days because of me. I couldn't bear it if I had…if you-"

"Erik, please," I pleaded, cupping the exposed side of his face, staring into his eyes with sincerity, "you have nothing to blame yourself for. What I've been through has been down to nothing more than my own stupidity, my own actions." His features softened, a hint of a smile crossing his lips as I held the back of my hand to my mouth, an unavoidable yawn escaping me, my eyes beginning to feel heavy. "Although I am very tired."

"Yes, well, that is to be expected." He spoke with a smile, his gaze locked fiercely with mine, his face merely inches from my own.

"Goodnight." I whispered, turning from him to ascend the stairs to my chamber.

"Goodnight Christine." He announced behind me.

Despite the cold January winds surely howling above us, my room felt unusually warm, my dress becoming heavy and irritating. After stepping behind my screen and removing it, I headed to my wardrobe, wanting to find something light and cool, finding just the thing.

I placed the discovered white nightgown over my head and examined myself in the vanity mirror. The material was a fine, creamy silk that reached my ankles, the gown hugging my every curve, boasting a neckline that plunged a little too low for my liking. Deciding it would have to do, I removed each bobbypin from my hair and gently brushed through my curls letting them fall every which way. And then, in that moment, my heart sank, an irritating notion harassing my thoughts: was she…this _Ariadne_…another student? Another girl he had taught to sing…or still teaching to sing? Did he…does he…_love_…her? I shook the thought away, an unfamiliar pang of jealously pooling in my stomach.

Confused by my emotions, I walked towards the remaining lit candle next to my bed and blew it out before nestling myself among the sheets, letting them envelop and comfort me as my eyelids slowly began to close.

* * *

_'Christine?!'_

"Raoul? Raoul is that you?"

_'Christine! Where are you?!'_He stood in the distance, frantically pacing and searching.

"Raoul!" I scream his name, no noise escaping from my throat.

_'Christine? I've come for you! Oh Christine, my love. My life!'_

"Raoul! I'm here! Why can't you hear me?!" I held my hand to my neck, unable to comprehend how I had lost any and all ability to speak.

_'Christine…!'_

I awoke in a cold sweat, a lump caught in my throat as I hastily sat up and searched the room around me…to no avail. Raoul had not come to find me, it had only been a cruel dream, his voice echoing in my memory. Releasing a heavy sigh, I settled back down to sleep. With no way of telling the time down here, I couldn't even hazard a guess as to hour long I had been asleep for, but the reality of my dream had made it seem like an eternity.

I willed my body into entropy, wanting my mind to switch off and let me sleep. My bed which had once been so warm and inviting, had become a bed of nails; every attempt to get myself comfortable now futile, my skin growing sensitive and itchy. I quickly brushed my arm with the palm of my hand, attempting to calm the inflammation, but instead felt the small structure of a creature, my blood freezing.

Taking one of the fresh matches nestled between the group of candles next to my bed, I scraped it against the cold stone wall, igniting it, immediately lighting the candles and illuminating the room with a hushed cry of anxiety. Extinguishing the match with a small blow I looked down at my bed, the biggest spider I had ever encountered next to my hand between the sheets.

Without thought, I screamed at the top of my voice, scrambling away from it in terror towards the end of my bed, the length of my nightdress tripping me as I went.

"Christine?!" Erik was at my side immediately, a look of confusion and panic in his eyes as his gaze fell on me. It was evident that he had been asleep, his hair a dishevelled mess, and yet he stood before me in his full dress from earlier on, minus his jacket and waistcoat, the buttons of his pristine white shirt undone, exposing his chest. Without thought I jumped at him with another scream, landing in his arms and causing him to back up against the wall, pleading him to keep hold of me in the air and never let go as I breathlessly tried to explain the situation.

"Erik! Erik help me! Kill it! Kill it!" I finally settled in his embrace, wrapping my arms around his neck as he held me to his chest like a frightened child, my breasts heaving as I panted in fear. Erik frantically looks around the room to find evidence of an intruder, confusion etched into his face.

"Kill what?"

"T-The spider!" I replied with a whimper, extending my arm to point to the bed, quickly withdrawing it again and wrapping it around his neck to pull myself even more into his embrace. He stood there, holding me for what seemed like an eternity before I turned to look as his face, a hint of a smile threatening his composure as he raised an eyebrow. Despite my resistance, his hold on me weakened as he set me on my feet, leaving me to walk towards the incriminating area of my bed.

I stood perfectly still, my arms hugging my body as if to somehow extend the comfort he had given me. He stopped, ostentatiously looking around the room before setting his gaze on the bed with an "a-ha!" pointing towards the invasive arachnid as if to ask me if it was the one I was referring to.

"Yes." I responded, nodding impatiently to will him to take it away, unable to shake the feeling that he was mocking my fear. With an almost inaudible laugh, he gently picked it up, letting it wander up his arm before placing it back in the palm of his hand. The very sight made my skin crawl, and yet I couldn't take my eyes off of him.

"How can you let it touch you like that? Doesn't he frighten you?" I spoke finally.

"On the contrary Christine, I find any creature capable of finding its way into my home fascinating."

We stood in silence for a moment, nothing but the calming noise of the lake's ripples quietly breaking against the stone floor below us, before I finally whispered, "I hate them," letting my arms fall to my sides.

"Oh?" His eyes met mine as he slowly made his way towards me, spider in tow.

"Oh Erik no, it's horrible please don't bring it over here!"

"Why Christine, what's it going to do you if I do?" His question left me speechless.

"Nothing," I spoke quietly, suddenly feeling embarrassed as my cheeks began to flush a light shade of pink.

"Yet I sense this doesn't change your opinion of it, you are still frightened?" I nodded hesitantly as he began to walk towards me again. "Well I suppose our little friend here wouldn't be considered aesthetically pleasing to any eye. And yet, you ran into my arms for protection," I bit my lip in apprehension as he stood directly before me, "the embrace of a hideous _monster_?" His choice of word made me flinch inwardly. "Tell me, what makes our little friend and I so different?"

"You are neither of those things." I whispered tenderly, understanding what he was trying to insinuate.

"So," he spoke finally, "do you still wish for me to kill it?" I shook my head. "Very well then." He walked over to my vanity, placing the spider in one of the vacant drawers and closing it swiftly, "I shall secure it in here for the night and release it the morning, do not worry about it a moment longer my Christine." He raised a hand to caress the side of my cheek with the backs of his fingers as I gave him a grateful smile, my gaze falling to his exposed chest.

"Oh Erik." I whispered, my heart swelling at the sight of the pattern of scars that covered his body, tracing each one with my fingertips. "Who did this to you?" My voice noticeably cracking on the last word, my mouth beginning to dry as I swallowed the growing lump in my throat, placing my hands on his chest beneath his shirt and staring up into his eyes, imploring him for an answer.

"It is nothing Christine." I could tell from the look in his eye that this wasn't the right time, nor the place to discuss such an evidently sore subject. I would wait for him.

"I'm sorry if I frightened you." I replied with a smile, his expression softening.

"Do not fret; I thank God every day for making me such a light sleeper." A giggle escaped my lips as his mouth curved into a smile, his hands symmetrical as they rose to cup my face, my skin blushing wildly at his touch. "Goodnight Christine." His voice like velvet as he turned from me to leave.

"Erik?" I asked suddenly, almost surprising myself at my confidence. He stopped and turned to me, his brows knitted in confusion as I made my way over to him and encircled my arms around his neck, pulling him into my embrace, conscious of my over-exposed décolletage meeting his bare chest. "I never said thank you." I confessed quietly into his ear.

"F-For what Christine?" His voice trembled, his arms still lifeless by his sides.

"For saving my life." I reminded him, the haunting memory of my ordeal still fresh. He exhaled deeply, bringing his arms up to envelop me in his strong grasp, one hand resting at the small of my back, the other between my shoulder blades. "I was so afraid," I whispered, "so cold, so…alone."

"I promise you this," he responded after a moment's pause, releasing me and holding my shoulders at arms length, "you will never have to feel that way again. Not over my dead body, do you understand me?" I could say nothing in response, giving him a grateful smile.

"Goodnight Erik."

"Goodnight Christine." And with that, he left my side, my room never feeling so big, so empty as I released a small sigh.

Making sure he had made it back to his own bedroom, I hesitantly made my way over to my own bed, swiftly pulling the sheets off and throwing them to the floor, wanting to make sure I wouldn't have any other uninvited guests before scooping them back up and blowing the nearby candles out, sinking back into bed. Well, my arachnophobia couldn't be healed overnight!

* * *

**A/N:** …it's safe to come out now right? Our little eight-legged friend is gone? Phew!

Tell me what you thought :)


End file.
